


Prove Me Wrong

by foxsmoulder



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 11:11:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13588830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxsmoulder/pseuds/foxsmoulder
Summary: “So you’d know all about hitting on someone?” Lance asked, trying to sound just as sarcastic as this guy was, though it didn’t hit quite the right notes and earned an unimpressed scoff.“I guess you could say that.” The guy smirked, polishing off his drink and placing it on the bar in front of him. “In comparison to you anyway, though honestly that isn’t saying much.”“Oh yeah?” Lance leant forward a little more, that fourth tequila shot was beginning to hit him now. “Prove it then.”At that, the guy finally lifted and turned his head, and Lance got a full-frontal metaphorical train to the face as he was struck dumb by those eyes.“I’m sorry?” The guy scoffed, but there was no real heat to it, more fond amusement.“Prove it.” Lance thanked the fifth shot of tequila that was closely following the fourth.





	1. Magnets

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hey, here's something that will have multiple chapters, but damn it's got to be short else apparently I get scared and lose all interest!  
> I hope you like it! Keith totally has game, and I want you all to know that.

“Hey good-lookin-“

“Nope.”

Lance stopped dead in his tracks, realizing far too late that he’d leant his elbow in a patch of split drink on the bar, and the fabric covering his elbow was soaking up what smelt like vodka.

The guy hadn’t even bothered to look up from his drink, his hand idly stirring the ice cubes in his drink with a straw, eyes half-lidded and completely uninterested.

Lance’s words died on his tongue, for a couple of different reasons.

  1. He hadn’t even had a chance to finish his line, something he detested happening because his lines were impeccable.
  2. He’d been rejected before the guy had even given him a chance to show him just how interesting and wonderful he was.
  3. This guy was obviously an asshole and not worth Lance’s time anyway.
  4. Except, the more he looked at him, the prettier he became.
  5. And finally, Lance always desperately wanted what someone said he couldn’t have.



Now usually, Lance would walk away, regroup and find another beautiful person to hit on, except a quick glance around told him that he was stood less than three inches away from the most beautiful person in the room.

Which was frustrating, because this now had become a challenge, and dammit if Lance didn’t love a challenge.

“I’m sorry?” Lance finally spoke up, leaning a little closer, he was half trying to be intimidating and half trying to get into a more intimate space.

“Don’t bother trying to hit on me.” The guy continued, lifting the straw to his lips to take a sip of his drink. “It won’t work. I bet you were about to come up with some cheesy line wondering if I came here often, the answer is yes, by the way.”

“You don’t know that.” Was the only line of defence that Lance could come up with, because fuck, that was absolutely what he was about to do.

“Okay, sure,” The guy responded, unconvinced, sarcasm dripping coolly from his words. Lance hated it, mostly because it made him all the more interesting.

“So you’d know all about hitting on someone?” Lance asked, trying to sound just as sarcastic as this guy was, though it didn’t hit quite the right notes and earned an unimpressed scoff.

“I guess you could say that.” The guy smirked, polishing off his drink and placing it on the bar in front of him. “In comparison to you anyway, though honestly that isn’t saying much.”

“Oh yeah?” Lance leant forward a little more, that fourth tequila shot was beginning to hit him now. “Prove it then.”

At that, the guy finally lifted and turned his head, and Lance got a full-frontal metaphorical train to the face as he was struck dumb by those eyes.

“I’m sorry?” The guy scoffed, but there was no real heat to it, more fond amusement.

“Prove it.” Lance thanked the fifth shot of tequila that was closely following the fourth, “You think you’re so good at hitting on someone, prove it.”

“You want me to prove to you how good I am at coming onto someone else?” He turned in his chair, leaning his elbow on the ONE dry patch on the entire bar.

“Uh yeah,”

He hesitated.

“Oh, are you scared?”

“I’m not scared.” He all but snapped in response. “I don’t have anything to prove to you, so no, I think I’ll give it a miss.”

Lance shrugged and raised an eyebrow as he turned.

“Alright then, your loss.”

He glanced back and felt victorious at the indignant pout that remained on that pretty guy’s face.

 

“Y’know, I’m starting to think you’re stalking me.”

Keith groaned internally as he heard a familiar voice beside him. He tilted his head ever so slightly to take in the startlingly blue eyes of the same guy from the weekend before, the same self-assured, smug smile on his face, it rubbed Keith up all the wrong ways.

“Funny, being that I told you that I come here often,” Keith responded, and regretting responding in the first place, ‘cause now he’d opened a fucking dialogue with this guy. “Therefore, I think you’ll find, you’re in fact stalking me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, dollface.”

“Did you just call me dollface?!”

“Why, you like that?”

Keith huffed, thanking whoever decided the lights in this place be kept dim as he felt heat climbing up his neck.

“Feeling up to the challenge yet?” The guy then asked, and Keith felt an eye-roll coming on that threatened to bring his head into the mix.

“What challenge?” Keith muttered, pursing his lips around the straw between his fingers.

“You’re not gonna show me just how good you are at hitting on someone?” He continued. He had an infectious brightness to his voice that was tough for Keith to not let affect him. “Or are you still gonna be a huge wimp about it?”

“You know that I’m not a fourteen-year-old boy, right?” Keith deadpanned, glancing over to the bar, looking at the reflection in the glass, eyes trained on the brunette’s form beside him. “I’m not gonna lose sleep over the fact that you don’t think I can successfully talk myself into someone else’s bed.”

“That’s a real shame, ‘cause I’d love to see that.” Keith watched him move forward slightly in the reflection. “Don’t you want to, I don’t know, show me how it’s done?”

“No, I think I’m okay, actually.” Keith replied, closing his eyes, trying to ignore the scent of this guy’s cologne. “I think I can hear your friends calling you.”

“I’m not here with anyone.”

“That’s sad.”

“I don’t see you with anyone else either.”

“What’s your point exactly?”

If Keith thought he was losing his patience before, he had no idea what it meant to lose one’s patience till now.

“It’s not like you have anything better to do,” The guy decided to do the worst, and grabbed and dragged a stool up to sit beside Keith. “So, humour me.”

“No, I told you, I don’t have anything to prove to you.” Keith snapped. He really hadn’t wanted to snap, he didn’t want to show this guy that he had any power over Keith whatsoever.

“The name’s Lance.” The guy extended a hand, completely ignoring Keith’s outburst.

“I don’t care.” Keith muttered, pointedly ignoring the hand in front of him. “Are you done now?”

“Sure,” Lance smirked, pushing himself up from the stool and walking away.

Keith cursed himself a billion times over for actually watching him walk away.

 

“Um, Lance, I think it means he’s honestly not interested.” Hunk tried to pry the glass away from Lance’s hand, to no avail.

“I don’t know why you’re bothering, Hunk, you know he’s not going to give up,” Pidge muttered, not tearing her eyes away from her phone. “This is Lance we’re talking about, have you ever known him to give up on anything before?”

“I guess not.” Hunk sighed, letting go of the glass and watching with eyebrows knit in concern as Lance drained the glass. “I just… I don’t think going to hang out in some seedy bar and talking to a stranger is a constructive way to spend your Saturday nights.”

“Don’t worry Hunk, I have a good feeling about tonight!” Lance pounded his fist in the air, though he was mostly lying, he didn’t have a good feeling, but then he didn’t have a bad feeling, it was more… neutrality, but he was excited to see what MIGHT happen.

When he entered the bar, he spotted him straight away, same hunched posture, leather jacket hanging loosely over his shoulders, still completely on his own.

Lance scoffed to himself, heading to the bar, keeping himself a couple of metres away, eyes flitting over to watch him. It seemed that the stranger had been doing the same thing, as they locked eyes for a brief second, and Lance felt like he’d won a million bucks.

He ordered his usual and stood for a couple of minutes, taking sips, more as a way to give himself the courage he needed to head over there once more.

Except when he turned, the guy in question was suddenly right beside him, appraising him with… a strange look in his eye, the slightest curl in his lip as he dragged his gaze from Lance’s eyes, to his feet and back up again.

Lance felt all the heat in his body flood to his face, something akin to butterflies in filling his stomach, heartrate picking up.

“Hey,” was all that he said, his voice lilting with something that Lance could only compare to… desire? “Have I seen you around before?”

Lance gawped, what the hell was he playing at?

“There’s something about your eyes.” He continued, barely allowing Lance to get a word in edgewise, reaching forward slightly, his fingers a hairsbreadth away from Lance’s cheek, when suddenly he stopped himself. “Oh, man, I’m sorry, that was kinda weird, huh? I just… god I don’t know what it is but I feel so _drawn_ to you, like I’ve known you my entire life.”

Lance was completely dumbfounded. What the fuck had happened in the week he hadn’t seen him, was this definitely the same guy that had rejected Lance two weeks ago?

“Am I being too much?” The guy drew away slightly, which caused Lance to automatically lean toward him, like a fucking magnet, his eyes widened at the change in Lance’s body language. “Wait, do you… do you feel it too?”

Lance wanted to find the words, desperately, but he’d been struck utterly dumb, so instead of speaking, he just nodded, eyes wide, mouth probably just as wide, looking like a love-struck idiot.

Then suddenly, he was leaning towards him, and Lance could feel the hot brush of his breath against his lips, then just as their lips were about to make contact-

“That proof enough for you?” The guy suddenly smirked, grabbed his drink and walked away.

Lance had never had a heart attack, but he could honestly say that this was something not far off that. He clutched his chest, Lance was dramatic, but this was not for drama, he literally felt his heart give out as the stranger finished his drink, and marched out the fucking door.

 

Keith didn’t expect to see him again, and he wasn’t sure if he was happy or pissed off at the sudden feeling of a familiar presence beside him. He barely turned his head to meet Lance’s blue eyes, anger written on his features.

“What the fuck.” Was all that Lance apparently had to say.

Keith would be lying if he said he wasn’t exceptionally proud of himself. He turned in his chair and let a smile play on the corner of his mouth.

“Can I help you?” Keith asked.

“What was that, last week?!” Lance breathed, it looked like he hadn’t recovered, the pink now present on his cheeks was the same pink that Keith had seen appear after Keith used his – and he admits this with all the humbleness of a self-assured actor receiving an award – weakest moves on him.

“What? You wanted proof, I gave you proof,” Keith shrugged innocently. “You can’t act all pissed off because I proved you wrong.”

“Well, guess what. I am pissed off.” Lance snapped in response, which was honestly not what Keith had expected, he expected panicked denials. “I am so fucking pissed off and yet not at all at the same time! What’s with that?!”

“You tell me,” Keith was still trying to play it cool even though he was being totally thrown off by the contrast in Lance’s demeanour and his words.

“Ever since last week, I haven’t stopped fucking thinking about you!” Lance cried, a confession that Keith certainly hadn’t expected. “You were meant to just be a conquest! A mountain for me to climb and you’ve destroyed any illusion I had thinking that I could just move on and forget about you!”

Lance had always seemed the type to live in denial, to hide his true feelings if they made him seem vulnerable or might potentially humiliate him.

Keith… didn’t have a response, honestly. He was obviously completely wrong about him.

“I’ve gone to sleep every night thinking about what I would have been like if you’d actually have kissed me!” Lance cried, grabbing onto Keith’s shoulders. “And I don’t even know your fucking name! How?! How can that be?! And how can it be that you’re here, every Saturday night, alone?!”

“Is this… like a double bluff?” Keith forced out, voice unsure, completely blown away. Lance shook his head, lips a thin grim line.

“No. You’ve ruined me. I don’t even know your name and you’ve fucking ruined me.” Lance continued on his tirade. “I walk anywhere now, and nothing, fucking no one compares to those piercing eyes, I see a beautiful girl or a gorgeous guy and I feel NOTHING. Whatever it is that you’ve done to me, just fucking undo it! You’ve ruined my life!”

“I… uh, I feel like you’re being a bit dramatic.” Keith stammered.

“Nope. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m dramatic, I know I am, but I swear for once I am NOT being over dramatic.” Lance hissed. “And the worst thing about it is, I know that you were pretending. I KNOW you were doing it to prove me wrong and I HATE that I hate that.”

Keith fell silent, his mouth closing, because he didn’t have a response to that. He wasn’t as honest as Lance, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Anyway… that’s all I wanted to say. I’ll leave you alone now.” Lance sighed, dropping the vice-like grip he had on Keith’s shoulders and stepping back. “Sorry, I just… I had to get that out and my friends were sick of me spilling it out onto them.”

Keith watched him go, and wasn’t entirely sure what possessed him to do it.

“It’s Keith.” He spoke aloud, stopping his hand from reaching out to stop him.

Lance slowly turned to look back at Keith.

“Well, Keith. You broke my heart.” Lance grinned, but there wasn’t… sadness. In fact he looked downright victorious. “I hope you’re happy.”


	2. Two Sides of the Same Coin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Lance?” He wondered aloud, watching him wave desperately through the windows of the bar.
> 
> Out of purest curiosity, he approached the door and pushed it open, to see Lance stood in the street in a pair of cookie monster pyjama bottoms and a tank top.
> 
> “What the hell?”
> 
> “Hey, Keith, how’s it going,” Lance said coolly, like he wasn’t standing in a tank top in almost the middle of the night. “I’m not entirely sure why I’m here, but… here I am, and they won’t let me in in my current getup.”
> 
> “It’s like you can’t stay away from me,” Keith smirked, letting himself wander down the steps towards him, like a magnet.
> 
> “Are you expecting me to deny that? Because I think you’ll find I won’t.” Lance shrugged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um so I kind of took this and FUCKING RAN.  
> This won't be a long fic.  
> It's gonna be oh-so-vaguely slow-burn, till suddenly it's not.  
> Enjoy!

Lance looked at his watch. He felt almost bad that he hadn’t gone to the bar, instead he was curled up on the couch, head resting on Pidge’s shoulder, feet in Hunk’s lap with some irrelevant movie lighting up their features, his hand resting in the popcorn bowl trying not to think about Keith.

An unlikely name, but a name that suddenly didn’t remind him of his third aunt’s first husband, it suddenly had much… sexier connotations.

He hadn’t… expected anything from his angry confession, but the fact that he got a name? It was something, right? Something that he could take and run, his name was Keith. The one person to ever crawl his way under Lance’s skin and make a home there was called Keith.

“What do you suppose Keith’s surname is?” Lance suddenly blurted, and was met with a duo of groans.

“I’m sorry, what? What is this question?” Pidge sighed, taking off her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“Keith’s surname, what do you suppose it is? Do you think he has a… facebook? Or… snapchat?” Lance wondered again.

“I don’t have an answer, I actually don’t have an answer for this question.” Pidge groaned, dropping her head back against the couch cushions.

“Maybe it’s Smith?” Hunk suggested, it wasn’t very helpful but Lance felt a rush of affection for his oldest friend.

“Keith Smith?” Pidge repeated.

“No, that doesn’t sound right, I bet it’s something… edgy?” Lance threw out a hand for dramatic effect.

“That’s an interesting thought to draw upon when you know literally nothing about this man.” Pidge deadpanned. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting over him right now?”

“Yeah, I am. I know. I’m sorry, I just UGH I wanna date him so much!” Lance cried like a petulant child. “It’s killing me, I don’t know what to do.”

“Stop. Talking. About. Him.” Pidge slapped her hands between each word by way of emphasis.

“I have a better idea.”

 

Keith sighed, swilling the ice around his finished drink, wondering why he felt so… bereft, lonelier than usual. He had grown used to Lance turning up and… entertaining him – for want of a better description. He huffed, finished his drink and turned to leave when he spotted a familiar face at the door.

“Lance?” He wondered aloud, watching him wave desperately through the windows of the bar.

Out of purest curiosity, he approached the door and pushed it open, to see Lance stood in the street in a pair of cookie monster pyjama bottoms and a tank top.

“What the hell?”

“Hey, Keith, how’s it going,” Lance said coolly, like he wasn’t standing in a tank top in almost the middle of the night. “I’m not entirely sure why I’m here, but… here I am, and they won’t let me in in my current getup.”

“It’s like you can’t stay away from me,” Keith smirked, letting himself wander down the steps towards him, like a magnet.

“Are you expecting me to deny that? Because I think you’ll find I won’t.” Lance shrugged, completely unashamed at every turn, it always threw Keith for such a loop.

“It’s funny, I almost kinda missed you.” Keith admitted, it felt unnatural coming from his own lips, honesty wasn’t his strong suit.

“Y’know, I’m trying not to let that slay me, because I’ve seen how deceiving you can be.” Lance raised his eyebrows, folding his arms. “How can I trust any of the words coming out of your mouth?”

“I dunno, I don’t have anything to prove to you at the moment.” Keith mirrored Lance’s movements. “Why are you here, in your pyjamas anyway?”

“Because I hate myself and I’m a sucker for pain I guess?” Lance sighed.

“Why would you say that?” Keith stopped in front of him, mirroring his stance.

“Because I always want what I can’t have.” Lance rolled his eyes. “And if I can’t kiss you, then I can invite you to my friend’s place to finish the movie I just literally skipped out on.”

“You ran out in the middle of a movie at your friends’ place? To come here?” Keith hated the fact that he’d been rendered dumbfounded every time he had an interaction with this guy.

“Man, you’re all about repeating the exposition aren’t you?” Lance sighed, rolling his eyes. “Are you coming or what? ‘Cause it’s cold and my friends are blowing up my phone with stupid messages like ‘why did you leave with no explanation’ and ‘YOU’RE GONNA CATCH YOUR DEATH’.”

“Well, it’s not like I have anything better to do.” Keith smirked. “Aren’t your friends going to wonder why you brought a stranger back to their place?”

“C’mon, you’re hardly a stranger to them, I talk about you all the time!” Lance groaned, reaching out for Keith’s arm and dragging him away.

“How can you just say stuff like that?!”

“MY MAMA DIDN’T RAISE NO LIAR, KEITH SMITH.”

“Definitely not Smith.”

“Yeah, it… didn’t feel right.”

 

Hunk and Pidge hadn’t stopped staring at him since Lance had dragged him through their door at almost midnight on a Saturday night.

Keith looked hideously uncomfortable, but he didn’t make a move to leave, his eyes darting back and forth between the two staring him down and Lance who was stood at the kitchen counter, not entirely sure what to do now.

History taught him that one way or another they’d probably end up in bed together, but thus far Keith hadn’t shown any real interest in him in that way, so they had reached an impasse. The movie had ended, Hunk and Pidge were expecting Lance to leave, and Keith just looked like he’d been thrown in at the deep end and was being circled by pool sharks.

“So Keith,” Pidge suddenly piped up. “Just for curiosity’s sake, what is your surname?”

“Uh, it’s Kogane, what’s yours?” Keith blurted in response, suddenly not so smooth anymore.

“An interesting response, way to deflect, and mine is Holt.” Pidge responded, the glasses perched on her nose glinting in the light of her head bobbing.

“I mean cool, I don’t… know your first name so… I’m gonna refer to you as Holt.” Keith drew his lips together and nodded defiantly.

“Daring,” Was all Pidge offered in response. “But I don’t blame you, being that you’ve been here for almost forty-five minutes and Lance hasn’t even bothered to introduce us.”

“Alright, well, we best be off, right Keith?” Lance suddenly piped up. Pulling on his shoes and jacket, still absolutely sporting his pyjama bottoms as Hunk and Pidge watched with wide-eyes as he dragged Keith out of the apartment.

“Where… are we going?” Keith hazarded to ask. Lance huffed a laugh over his shoulder.

“I don’t know.” Lance sighed, stopping in a stairwell. “I don’t feel like I know anything anymore. These things are supposed to be simple, I’m supposed to get over you and move on, and yet here I am, in a stairwell, in my pyjamas in the middle of the night because I just can’t let you go.”

“So, what do you want to do?” Keith piped up after a couple of seconds. “I mean, I told you, I don’t have anything better to do, and you’re alright company… I guess. And I mean, I’m a night owl, so I’m pretty much down for whatever.”

“What if I wanted to murder you?” Lance DIDN’T KNOW WHY HE SAID IT HE THOUGHT THAT IT’D BE FUNNY.

“Uh, I guess everything happens for a reason? And I’m sure I might deserve it?” Keith continued, Lance could tell that he was really trying, and that warmed his heart more than he could eloquently put into words.

“Are you hungry? I have frozen pizzas back at my place.” Lance suggested, he expected a flat-out denial, but was surprised as Keith smiled gently, and actually nodded.

 

Keith stared at the slice of pizza in his hand, from his seat on Lance’s surprisingly comfortable sofa, a sofa that was located on the other side of the city from his place.

He wasn’t entirely sure if he genuinely thought the sofa was comfortable, or if he was trying to accept the fact that he was definitely going to be sleeping there that night. His eyes kept creeping over to Lance’s exhausted form, his finger tapping the remote as he slid through different movie options on Netflix, his brain definitely not working.

“Hey Keith,” Lance spoke without moving his eyes from the TV screen. “What do you do?”

“Like… as a job, or just in general?” Keith asked.

Lance’s head moved to regard him with an incredulous look on his face. “Job.”

“I’m a trainee software developer?”

“You don’t sound sure.”

“What about you?”

Lance sighed and rolled onto his stomach so that he was facing Keith fully, his tired eyes trying their hardest.

“I’m a waiter at some shitty restaurant downtown.” Lance confessed. “So much for all that time at college and all the money spent on tuition.”

“I hear that.” Keith responded, leaning back into the couch cushions, trying not to find Lance’s adorable, sleepy face as adorable as he found it. “No shame in it though, I think the majority of people that go to college don’t end up where they thought they’d be.”

“Tell that to Hunk and Pidge.” Lance sighed, letting his eyes droop for a second. “Pidge is studying to become a junior professor, and Hunk is an undergrad at a huge engineering firm.”

“You can’t compare your life to other people’s.” Was all Keith really had to say in response, he wasn’t sure what was possessing him to try and make Lance feel better.

“Hey, another question before I fall asleep and you leave and I have to try and forget about you again,” Lance quietly begun again. “I have to know, why did you shoot me down so quickly?”

Keith hated being vulnerable in front of people, and Lance – however… bizarrely fond he was of that idiot – was as good as a stranger, so why did he follow up his question with a fucking answer.

“I don’t know, I’m used to people hitting on me and then just leaving.” Keith responded, raw honestly felt thick on his tongue. “I like that bar, cause… I get to be alone, so when people try and talk to me I kind of just, rely on the whole asshole shtick and people usually get the picture.”

Lance was silent.

“And then you showed up an-“

Keith looked up and there he was, fast asleep on the couch beside him, chest rising and falling gently, looking so safe and happy. Keith sighed and stood up, half of him was telling him that he should leave, and forget about all these sick feelings in his stomach. But instead, he found Lance’s bedroom, grabbed the sheets from his bed, draped the sheets across them both and fell asleep beside him, letting his hand rest on Lance’s shoulder, telling himself that it happened whilst he was unconscious.

 

Lance’s head shot up, the fabric underneath him feeling unusual, not feeling like his bed at all, instead feeling suspiciously like his couch, a feeling only learned from falling asleep after marathoning trashy TV shows on Netflix by himself.

Except, he wasn’t alone, he felt Keith before he saw him, he felt the gentle pressure of Keith’s hand resting on the back of his neck. He really hadn’t expected to see Keith, not the next day, and maybe not ever, but there he was, his eyes closed and breathing softly.

He almost felt like squealing, but he didn’t want to wake the sleeping figure beside him, because he was still here. It might have been an accident, Keith probably never intended on staying but there he was, in all his glory. When suddenly, Lance noticed Keith’s leather jacket draped over the back of the chair, which was currently being used as a pillow by its owner.

Maybe he had meant to stay.

He didn’t want to move and interrupt the warmth of Keith’s hand on his skin, but his mouth felt disgusting and he needed to shower. He brought his hand up to rest on Keith’s, gently moving it away and placing it on it’s owner’s stomach.

He stood up and gently paced away from Keith, escaping into the comfort of his bathroom where he slammed the shower button and squealed like a fucking teenager to his heart’s content.

So much for ‘getting over him’ he’d fucking stayed the night, and from what Lance could remember, they had almost bonded and Keith had spent most of the evening trying to actively make Lance feel better.

“What am I doing to myself,” Lance whispered aloud, staring at himself in the mirror, cursing the fact he’d neglected his nightly routine and poured himself under the hot stream of the shower.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out into the living room, relieved to see that Keith was definitely still asleep as he padded across the room towards his bedroom.

When he returned he noticed that the spot where Keith had once been was now vacant, and instead he saw Keith in his kitchenette, holding a plastic cup in one hand, the other hand on the handle of the cupboard he was currently staring into with incredulous eyes.

“Where do you keep your mugs?!” Keith exclaimed aloud. “Why are there red solo cups in here?! Why do you live like a frat boy?!”

“Wrong cupboard,” Lance yawned before stopping in his tracks. “Wait, why are you looking for mugs?”

“Are you one of those people that doesn’t consume coffee like their life depends on it?” Keith suddenly spun, glaring Lance down with those… _eyes_ of his.

“Um, no I mean I do thrive off coffee but… are you making me coffee?” Lance asked like it was a totally unbelievable thing.

“Y-yeah, I mean, yeah of course. You let me sleep on your couch, the least I could do is… make you coffee,” Keith responded, Lance noted he was suddenly much less smooth outside of the confines of the bar. “I was going to make one for myself, it’d be rude not to right?”

“To help yourself to my coffee and then not make me one too?” Lance scoffed, approaching the kitchenette after getting over his initial frozen shock. “Yeah I’d say that’s about the textbook definition of rude.”

“Exactly, and that is something I am not…”

Lance shot him a look.

“Most of the time.”

“Next cupboard… and thanks,” Lance smiled, rubbing the back of his head, feeling the dampness from his shower still there.

“It’s coffee, no biggie, don’t have to thank me.” Keith rolled his eyes as he finally found two cups and placed them on the counter.

“That’s… not what I meant,” Lance responded, moving his head to stare out of the window, not entirely sure he’d be able to deal with whatever expression he’d be met with if he looked at Keith.

There was silence for a couple of seconds.

“Like I said… no biggie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey did you guys know that I just... I love these boys so much?
> 
> Tumblr - Foxsmo_lder


	3. Liquor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (21:45) Lance Fine, fine, leave me on read, I get it.
> 
> (21:45) Lance Did I ever tell you that my dad was once a felon?
> 
> (21:46) Lance Totally, totally, he liked to rob stuff, he got arrested for this huge heist this one time?
> 
> (21:47) Lance You might have actually heard of it! Because… I mean, he stole all the stars, and y’know, by some weird coincidence, put them straight into your eyes.
> 
> Keith scoffed. Literally choked on air.
> 
> (21:48) Keith What was that?!
> 
> (21:50) Lance Hey! You didn’t give me a fake number! It’s a miracle.
> 
> (21:51) Keith You’re aware you got that pick up line backwards?

Keith was laid across his sofa, it was Saturday night, he’d usually be at the bar by now, having a drink by himself for a couple of hours.

Instead, he was laid on his sofa, wondering how one person could have such an impact on someone’s life. Because suddenly, he was craving things that he’d never craved before. The week before, after waking up on Lance’s couch, it had just been… drinking coffee, sharing small talk, getting to know each other a little better and then suddenly he was leaving even though he knew he didn’t want to.

He thought that if he stayed things would only begin to get more complicated, and now he was laid on his sofa, trying to think of ways to numb this feeling.

He wasn’t sure entirely what it was that he was scared of, why he didn’t want to feel this way, and he kept coming up blank, and whilst he felt excited, he also felt a thick weight of dread across his chest.

He’d had a long, boring week at work and he wanted to just get out of the house, but he wasn’t sure he trusted himself not to go back to Lance’s apartment, and force his way into his life as a permanent fixture. He already felt like he’d already done so much damage, and Lance had said on multiple occasions that he was just… meant to move on and forget about him.

Keith couldn’t deny that that thought stung, and he supposed that he’d made that bed for himself, but then Lance had challenged him, insisted that he prove himself. It wasn’t his fault it happened to backfire in Lance’s face.

His phone suddenly buzzed, he’d almost forgotten that he’d – against his own brain SCREAMING AT HIM NOT TO – given Lance his phone number.

               (21:43) Lance                    I take it you’re not heading to the bar this eve?

Keith stared at the message, his fingers didn’t move to type.

               (21:45) Lance                    Fine, fine, leave me on read, I get it.

               (21:45) Lance                    Did I ever tell you that my dad was once a felon?

               (21:46) Lance                    Totally, totally, he liked to rob stuff, he got arrested for this huge heist this one time?

               (21:47) Lance                    You might have actually heard of it! Because… I mean, he stole all the stars, and y’know, by some weird coincidence, put them straight into your eyes.

Keith scoffed. Literally choked on air.

               (21:48) Keith                     What was that?!

               (21:50) Lance                    Hey! You didn’t give me a fake number! It’s a miracle.

               (21:51) Keith                     You’re aware you got that pick up line backwards?

               (21:52) Lance                    Oh no, I know, I’m aware. I just… I don’t like to assume stuff about other people’s parents? That’s gotten me into trouble in the past, families are complicated in this day and age.

               (21:53) Keith                     You’re like a 21st Century Mother Theresa.

               (21:54) Lance                    I find it best to keep it PC.

               (21:55) Lance                    So you aren’t going to the bar tonight then?

               (22:00) Lance                    Guess not.

 

Lance turned as he noticed a new, out-of-breath patron had appeared at the front door of the bar.

“Oh, hey,” Lance greeted as Keith approached him, jacket-less, clutching his phone in his hand as he marched over to him.

“Hey,” Keith greeted as he nodded to the barman. “Why are you here?”

“Why weren’t you? I thought this was your Saturday night haunt,” Lance asked, gesturing to the same barman to pour him another.

“I just… I got caught up I guess, but I’m here now, aren’t I?” Keith gestured to himself.

“Without your signature leather jacket?” Lance smirked, Keith patted his arms like he hadn’t even realized.

“Guess not. What are you doing here anyway?” Keith asked.

Lance just stared at him.

“Are you really asking that question?” Lance exclaimed. “Do I really have to bare my soul to you every time we have a conversation?!”

“I guess no-“

“Because it physically _pains_ me to be away from you.” Lance shrugged nonchalantly, accepting his fresh drink with a smile to the barman. “And, I kinda like it here, it brings back good memories.”

Keith smirked, but his eyes betrayed his shock.

“I swear you say that stuff to make fun of me or something,” Keith huffed dismissively, taking a big swig of his fresh drink. Lance watched the tiniest trickle of condensation run down Keith’s wrist.

“No, these sorts of things aren’t the kind of thing I make a mockery of.” Lance smiled. “Like I said, my mama didn’t raise no liar.”

“You also assumed my name was Keith Smith.”

“Yeah, I know, I got it.”

“Keith Smith, he sounds like the cover-up name for a cop or a drug-lord or something.”

“Keith Smith is definitely a cocaine trafficker, whilst Lance Smith is the name for an undercover cop!”

“Did we just inadvertently make ourselves Mr and Mr Smith?”

They stared at each other for a couple of seconds before chuckling tentatively at each other.

“I’d like to think that I’d figure out about your nefarious dealings pretty quick sharp.” Lance grinned, polishing off his second drink and ordering another.

“I dunno, I like to think I’m a decent actor,” Keith responded.

“Oh, believe me I know that.” Lance responded, he tried to sound jovial, but he was sure that Keith could detect the slightest twinge of poorly concealed hurt.

A semi-awkward silence fell as Lance watched Keith swirl his ice round his glass with a straw, a sound that almost haunted Lance at this point.

“So, why this bar, of all the bars in the city, why here?” Lance piped up, the king of breaking awkward tensions.

“I don’t know, I happened across it one day after work,” Keith shrugged, continuing to stir his ice. “It looked quiet and dark, and it was very rare that people would bother to approach me, and I liked that.”

“Then I came and ruined it for you.” Lance snorted.

“I don’t think ‘ruin’ is the word I’d use.” Keith interjected. “I guess… ‘changed’ would be more accurate a description.”

“How?” Lance encouraged. Keith deadpanned for a couple of seconds before downing the last of his glass, the icecubes hitting his lips for a second before all but slamming his glass onto the bar.

“Okay, so. The night you rocked up in your pyjamas?” Keith huffed, hardest trying his. “I actually kind of missed you not being there.”

Calm down Lance, it doesn’t mean what you want it to mean – Lance had taken to mentally scolding himself whenever he was around Keith.

“Well I think it’s obvious that I missed you too, since I walked all the way here.” Lance grinned, taking a long sip of his drink. “If it’s any consolation I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“Sorry for crashing into your life like a south-bound freight train.” Lance elaborated. “I have a habit of doing that. I only met Pidge and Hunk because I climbed into their apartment trying to escape some homophobic frat boys.”

“You… you don’t have to apologise.” Keith bit his lip as soon as he said it. “I mean, it’s nice. I feel like I have a friend in the city for once.”

And Lance could be okay with that. He could be the friend that Keith so clearly needed, he could stop his dumb outbursts of affection if it meant he could have those same eyes in his life for as long as the owner of those eyes would let him.

A crush was a crush, it was dumb and stupid, so he knew he’d get over it somehow, he’d dug his own grave, he was the one who couldn’t let it lie, he was the one who insisted that Keith ‘prove it’. It was his own fault that it had spectacularly bit him on the ass as a result, though he supposed it was karma given that he’d just forced his way into a stranger’s life.

“Hey, Keith,”

Keith glanced up from his empty glass on the bar.

“Yeah?”

“Another drink?”

 

And another, and another, till Keith’s world was no longer static, it was all swirls and waves, like being in the ocean. He was aware of an arm around his waist, an arm that wasn’t massively supportive as the person it belonged to was about as inebriated as he was.

Suddenly they were at Lance’s apartment, throwing fries and mayonnaise onto the sofa and then bundling into Lance’s bed. Sheets pulled up tight around their faces and breathless laughs spilling between them, eyes locked onto each other, steadying everything.

“How does someone’s eyes get so blue?” Keith wondered, he felt like he was talking normally but it sounded like a garbled mess.

“I’m about 90% sure I’m a mermaid?” Lance responded just as sloppily. “Everyone tells me that they look just like the Caribbean ocean, that can’t be a coincidence can it?! And I can breathe underwater for an unnatural amount of time. AND my brother, AJ, told me that when I was born I had webbed fingers! Apparently the doctors had to slice them so I wouldn’t be picked on for being a freak!”

Keith laughed, his head falling forward, their foreheads pressing together, the smell of alcohol mixing between them as they laughed.

“Your eyes are like the sky at that time of night where the sun has almost all gone,” Lance spoke quietly after they both finished laughing. “Where it’s almost too dark to see around you, and not dark enough to see every single star in the sky?”

“I know what you mean,” Keith responded, because he did. He could remember on those trips out into the desert with Shiro, camping by a fire they’d built by hand, laying on their backs and watching the stars as they crept out from the canopy of the sun.

“Who’s Shiro?” Lance asked suddenly. Apparently what Keith thought he’d remembered in his head, he’d actually said out-loud.

“He’s my oldest friend,” Keith responded, trying not to sound so wistful. “We grew up together, I spent a lot of time with him and his family. He’s basically like an older brother to me.”

“It sounds like you had fun together,” Lance beamed, like he couldn’t be receiving better news. “I had a bunch of older siblings, but most of the time we’d fight and throw things at each other.”

A silence fell between them, Keith opened his eyes once more to find them instantly locked with Lance’s. His stomach did backflips at the expression that met him, it was like Lance was looking through his eyes and seeing all those stars appear in the middle of the desert with sand in his hair and the taste of burnt BBQ food on his tongue.

It was definitely the booze, but it felt like every experience they’d had separately was suddenly shared between them.

Keith wasn’t sure he’d have been able to stop himself, even if he’d wanted to, because then he was leaning in, and it felt like he was tasting the ocean on Lance’s tongue. He knew that he’d probably regret it in the morning, his feelings were so… messy and all over the place and Lance suddenly meant so much to him that he couldn’t stand to know that he was fucking it up.

He’d have dwelt on that for longer had it not been for Lance’s fingers suddenly carding through his hair, angling his head so that Lance could deepen the kiss.

And it felt like it had lasted forever, when suddenly it was over, but Lance – who Keith had expected would run away, ashamed and upset – was pressing his face into Keith’s neck, curling his arms around his torso and clinging tightly.

It was the first time that Keith had ever fallen asleep holding someone, being held, he could hardly remember what it felt like to be on the brink of tears, that lump in your throat, the butterflies in your stomach, and he knew that it was the liquor, but it felt like what was once out of place, just snapped straight in.

Because he liked Lance, he really, really liked Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smooches ;)
> 
> Tumblr - Foxsmo_lder

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, right?  
> Let me know if it's dumb and you hate it :')
> 
> Tumblr - Foxsmo_lder


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